Habits
by Nea-writes
Summary: Allen has several bad habits and his friends are worried, but changing isn't easy. Modern!AU, a bit of a fixer upper.


Happy Valentine's day!

Modern!AU ft part-timer Allen, gardener therapist Kanda, hobo-chic look Tyki and learning to change, bit by bit.

* * *

 _Habits_

 _a : a behavior pattern acquired by frequent repetition or physiologic exposure that shows itself in regularity or increased facility of performance_

 _b : an acquired mode of behavior that has become nearly or completely involuntary_

 _c : addiction_

* * *

He must look like shit.

It was there in the blank eyes carefully glancing him over, in a mother's protective hand on her child's shoulder, in the smirks of teens walking by thinking _God, at least I'm not like that._

He exhaled the smoke, fingertips red and chapped, lips dry. Chasing the endless shadows and wispy fog, all the way down to the bottom of a bottle, his own reflection glassy and moon-bright.

He waved it away and dug in his bag, popping a mint into his mouth, hopefully obscuring the smell. Replacing his glove on his hand and stubbing the cigarette out, he turned to face the storefront he'd been resting again, observing his face and rubbing at his bottom lip. Did he leave his lip balm at home? Stupid.

People said he never looked his age - that he didn't look any age, really. Washed white, strung and hung to dry, bleached bone-dry by an unforgiving sun and then left to wrinkle. He looked like shit, skin tight across his cheeks from the winter wind, bags under his eyes from endless nights.

"Look at yourself," he said, meeting gray eyes a bit too wide, the sclera alarmingly white. "Fucked up."

But he'd get better. Do better. _Be_ better.

Shouldering his bag - a bit frayed, a bit old, worn and dirty at the bottom - he turned away and towards the inner city, twilight winking on the horizon. The night was coming and it was time to start his next job.

_-.-_

Being a bartender wasn't all it was cracked to be.

It was long hours, aching feet and back, arms creaking at elbows and rolling shoulders. But it was work and it paid decently, so Allen smiled and poured another beer, slopping it over the side and laughing when the customer cheered.

Three am and it was closing time, cleaning and mopping up spilled liquor, the bottom of his shoes sticking and releasing with a stretch and pop. He made a game of it. Wipe the tables one, two, three times down, _schlick-_ pop _schlick-_ pop _schlick-_ pop to the next one. Rinse and repeat.

He could feel Anita's eyes on him but he steadily worked, nerves building. They wouldn't let him go. He worked full shifts, was always on time, had a smile on even when it felt brittle and dry, ready to crack like pavement under summer sun. They couldn't.

Her voice was gentle, like ashes falling, smearing under a dragged finger, soft. "Allen."

Stopping and arching his back a bit when he straightened to ease the strain, he turned to face her. "Ms. Anita! Yes?"

"You can leave now. They'll finish the rest," she said, arms folded under her chest and nodding her head to his coworkers. He stilled, fingers cramping in the wet cloth.

He didn't want to leave. Oh, he wanted to. He wanted to go to school like everyone else, study and get a degree and leave this godforsaken life. He wanted to move far far away, to a town where no one knew him, where money didn't loom behind closed eyes every night, countless bills and debts.

But, life wasn't a fantasy. Miracles didn't happen, wouldn't solve his problems for him. Hard work and a strong back, a steady determination - they did.

"I'm sorry?" He said, lips curving up.

She shook her head, and Allen wondered if maybe, in the dark of her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged just a bit, if maybe that was how a mother looked.

"You look tired, hon. Go, go get some rest."

He hesitated, mouth dry. Could he?

He glanced around and met countless eyes, some grudging some uncaring, seeking acceptance. None came and he met Anita's eyes again.

"It's okay - go."

He thanked her, finished the table and dropped the rag over the side of the bar, before heading to the backroom.

Outside it was crisp, air expanding in his lungs and he doubled over to cough wetly. The stars were painfully bright, the moon hanging heavy and low, full.

It startled him to realize he was crying.

Sympathy was so unfamiliar.

_-.-_

His apartment was cold. Walking in all he did was drop his backpack off to the side of his door, snagging his cigarettes from it to drop on the kitchen counter.

A two room apartment - bedroom and living room. It was a bit too much, but he thought that maybe just this was something he could have. He walked further in and collapsed on the couch, groaning. Toeing his shoes off, he leaned back and stared up at his ceiling, not thinking but simply being.

Exhaustion, bone-deep and searing his muscles, taking fast breaths, chest heaving. He was so tired.

_-.-_

Sometimes he slept deeply with no dreams at all, but most of the times he had nightmares. Most of those reflected reality.

Cross was vibrant - red hair, loud laugh, sarcastic words and leering smiles. The kind of person you always noticed.

After Mana died, Cross had been a bit quieter. After a month had passed and Allen had began to talk again, Cross began to disappear. He'd leave Allen in the middle of a huge bed in an empty hotel room, God knows where with nothing to his name. But he always came back, took Allen by the shoulder, and then moved somewhere else.

Cross died a year ago, and Allen had sat in his huge new apartment, looked around, and realized there was no one to wait for anymore.

_-.-_

The couch was unforgiving and his back hurt even more from it. But sunlight was streaming in from his windows - no curtains aside from the blinds that had come with the apartment, and those were pulled up.

There were lots of upsides to an apartment. He only had rent and electricity to pay, for one. Less upkeep. Smaller space, less to decorate. Private.

It suited him and it suited his wallet.

Even better was that he never ran out of hot water. The shower he took was steaming, burning him actually, and he let it, focusing only on that. Vigorously he washed his hair, scraping at his scalp and sighing, breathing out. He pressed his forehead to the tile walls, closing his eyes and just existing.

Despite the upsides, there were downsides too. The rent being too high, for one. Consequently, it left his fridge horribly bare.

"Fucking _bastard!"_ Allen snarled, slamming his fridge shut hard enough to jostle it. He cradled his face in his hands for a long moment before exhaling sharply and looking up. He was okay. It was all okay.

"I'll just go out to eat," he said aloud to no one.

_-.-_

"A true genius," he said under his breath, smiling faintly at the computer screen. This early in the morning the library was empty. He was the only one at the public computers, which meant he was alone in purveying his bank account total. "Absolute genius! How the fuck are you going to afford a diner when you can't afford groceries?"

The thing was, he _could_ buy a meal, but then it would make him short for the rent, which was due in a week. His paycheck came in the Friday after the coming one, but between then and now he was penny-pinching.

Well. The value menu was always a great way to go. He paid a few bills, had a good cry in the bathroom over his shitty life, and was just set to go when he noticed Lavi.

Lavi's grandfather owned the library - it was really a private collection, but people donated books all the time. It made Bookman sad, he'd told Allen one afternoon over tea, how technology made libraries more and more sparse.

Allen came frequently and it made him a particular favorite of Bookman apparently - well, according to Lavi that is. Allen couldn't really tell if Bookman liked him more or not since Bookman treated him the same as always.

All that being said, Lavi worked at the library sometimes between classes.

"What're you up to?" Lavi asked, kindly ignoring the red rimming Allen's eyes.

Allen laughed lightly and folded his arms across the counter-top, leaning into it. "Not much - going to grab breakfast and then head to work."

"You're always working," Lavi said thoughtlessly, throwing a smile at a few patrons walking in. "Don't you get tired?"

 _I'm always tired._

"You get used to it," Allen said instead, cupping his chin with his hand. "What about you? How's school?"

Lavi groaned theatrically, throwing his arms across the fake wood-grain. "Don't even mention it! It's so goddamn ridiculous - how do they expect me to write three essays before Friday? I'm dying, Allen," he said, mock-serious. "Please, won't you be my pall-bearer?"

"If you pay me to," Allen said with a grin and Lavi laughed, reaching under the counter and coming up with a bag and keys. "What's that for?"

"We're going to grab breakfast, you and I," Lavi said proudly, and dread curled in Allen's stomach. He couldn't afford that.

"No, I couldn't," he hedged, laughing nervously.

"My treat," Lavi said with a wink, and guilt threaded through every note of Allen's laugh.

"Okay," Allen finally said, smile turning warmer when Lavi threw an arm over his shoulders and walked them out.

Lavi's pity tasted acrid on his tongue.

_-.-_

He and Lavi parted ways outside the diner, but Allen wished he'd gone with him. Leaning against the storefront was Tyki, disheveled and dressed in rags.

"What?" Allen asked with a sigh, crossing his arms and shifting his weight. "Why are you stalking me?"

Tyki laughed, low and melodious. The kind of laugh that drew you and wrapped around you until all you wanted was to hear it again and again, insidious. "If I wanted to stalk you I'd be in your apartment."

"Disgusting."

Tyki laughed again and Allen hated the flush of pleasure. Hated how all he wanted was to please others and do for them, for anyone, for even Tyki of all people.

"I'm here to tell you that your uncle wants to see you."

Compounded with the cold winter air, dread shot like ice through his veins, making his breath catch in his throat. "Tell him," Allen said, clearing his throat. "That I don't want to."

"He figured you'd say that," Tyki said, grinning, white smile against tanned skin. "So he sent this too." Tyki handed over an envelope, large and rectangular - the kind greeting cards came in.

Scowling, Allen slid his finger under the adhesive flap, prying it open. There _was_ a card in there. It was the kind of sentimental blank ones for any occasion, pale yellow with birds flying across the front, a soft wash of red at the bottom.

 _Allen,_ it said on the inside.

 _I know you're struggling, and I know you don't like me._

 _But I just want to help you._

Tucked in the fold was four hundred dollars. Anger built like a storm inside him, scratching as his insides, buffeting him and turning him mad with it.

Did he have dignity?

His fingers pressed into the bills hard enough to crinkle. Did he have the wherewithal to decline?

No, no he didn't. Pathetic.

Weakly, he tucked the card back into the envelope, cash included, and stashed it in his bag, staring hard at the ground. Tyki didn't say anything, simply observing him.

Then, suddenly, a tender touch on his cheek. Allen jerked up, wide-eyed.

"He doesn't hate you, you know," Tyki said, hand trailing through his hair before falling back to his side. "None of us do. It's just. Not easy." Stilted, hurt - memories of Mana were carved into every inch of Allen and none of them wanted to see them.

"I know," Allen said quietly. His eyes dropped back to his shoes - scuffed, old, dirty. Four hundred dollars. "I know."

_-.-_

He was scolded three separate times for not focusing while working.

On his lunch break Lenalee joined him, untying her apron to lay folded beside her. She said something, elbows on the table and fingers interlaced, chin resting on them.

"Huh?" Allen asked, looking up from his dazed staring. He crossed his aching feet at the ankles, hands a dead weight on the table. It felt kind of like he was sinking inside himself, heavy, slow.

She smiled, a quick reflex of her lips before cocking her head. "You've been distracted all day - I was asking what's wrong?"

He laughed, straightening in his seat and waving his hand as if to dispel the heavy mood. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table, opening himself up. "Nothing, nothing! I saw my cousin and I was just thinking about it."

She quirked her brow, giving a pleasant smile at co-worker walking over with their meals. "You don't like him?" She asked, voice rounded and cool, gentle but probing.

He thought it over, thanking their co-worker with a smile, turning the words round in his head. Did he dislike Tyki?

A pleasant laugh, knowing eyes and curling hair, the easy touch.

"No," he said, for once truthful. "I just don't see him often." A light laugh to ease the tension in his lie - he saw Tyki far too often.

They fell into idle chit chat over their lunch break, and at the end they carried their dishes to the back, Allen grabbing a rag to wipe their table down with. Lenalee stopped him, a hand on his arm.

"You look so tired," she murmured, fingers flicking up to brush under his eyes and over his cheek, tracing his scar briefly. His heart fluttered at the frail touch. "Take a break sometime, okay?"

"Definitely," Allen agreed brightly, knowing he wouldn't. Lenalee knew too, in the sad shade of her eyes. Before he could escape she drew him in, hugging him tightly, firmly.

"Allen, we're worried about you," voice whisper-soft against his ear, fingers threading through his hair. He couldn't bring himself to pull away, but refused to collapse in her warm embrace. _Just a moment, a moment longer..._

She released him, cold air chasing away what little of her remained. A gentle pat on his cheek, "Don't work yourself so hard."

It was harder with her, in a way, to fake a smile. She always knew. He still tried anyways. "Don't worry so much Lenalee!" He said cheerfully. "I'll be just fine."

_-.-_

Cross had been good to him, Allen reflected.

Four am alone in his apartment, lights off and city stars shining through his bare window, smoke curling from his cigarette - he often thought of Cross at this hour.

Mana had died and at first Allen had been shuffled to Neah. That had been a disaster. In the wake of his grief Neah had gone ballistic every time he'd seen Allen.

 _I hate you! You - you - you! You took Mana from me,_ broken sobbing, curled over his knees beside a stunned child, golden eyes slit shut, _I can't stand you._

Tyki was old enough, but he was tripping head first down beer bottles and filthy holes in the wall, delirious. _I can't take care of some kid._

There was no one else except Cross.

But, Allen thought, exhaling and bones unwinding, eyes closing. Cross wasn't really meant to care for children either. He tried, though.

Cross lived his life always running towards something, always running away, and Allen was left desperately trying to keep up. In the end, he never could, and Cross left him behind.

"Goddamned bastard," Allen said to his knees, to the four hundred dollars on his coffee table. "You couldn't have just left me, could you?"

_-.-_

The winter sun was never warm and always too bright, blinding. The fluorescent lights were stark, leeching color away from the receptionist in his apartment's lobby.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, staring at her disbelief.

She cleared her throat and pushed his check a little further away from herself, sliding it with lacquered nails across the table. "It's already been paid for."

 _Is this a dream? Did she pull up the wrong account?_

"What?"

She gave him a hard impatient look. "It's paid for."

"By who?" He asked incredulously, almost angrily.

She shrugged.

_-.-_

"Tyki _what the fuck!"_ Allen sapped, curled over his phone clenched tight in his hands, unbearably aware of how many minutes he had left.

"Hey, hey chill out," Tyki said defensively, teeny over the line. "Neah wanted me to."

That name.

Allen breathed out harshly through his nose, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with gloved fingers. "...I'll go see him. Tomorrow, no - Sunday. Tell him I'll pay him back."

Tyki laughed. _With what money?_ echoed over the line through it, and Allen gritted his teeth.

"I'll pass it along."

_-.-_

Weekends he had off from both jobs, but he normally took odd ones to keep afloat. With four hundred extra in his pocket, not to mention the spare cash from the rent he didn't have to pay, he didn't actually have to work.

A break.

Lenalee's voice echoed in his head, and with his spare cash he stopped at a deli, got three sandwiches, and then headed to the parks.

Kanda was kneeling in the grass, smudged up to his elbows in dirt. Spring came early where they lived and he was replanting all the flowers that had died. A low stonewall encircled the path Kanda was working on, so Allen sat cross-legged on it nearby, eating his sandwich quietly.

With a sigh Kanda leaned back, settling on his legs, dirt smeared hands resting palm up on his thighs. "What?"

"Nothing," Allen said defensively, drawing a knee up to his chest even though it squeezed his stomach. "Here - brought you lunch."

Kanda cocked a brow but accepted the sandwich, not commenting on the type or its taste. He kept the wrapper carefully around the bottom half but didn't bother wiping his hands. They sat in silence, birdsong rich in the air. Cold as the weather was, the sun was gentle on his skin, and Allen basked in the peace.

"You look like shit," Kanda said, crumpling his wrapper. Allen laughed dryly.

"And _you're_ covered in shit, so who's better?"

Rolling his eyes, Kanda simply sat, and Allen flushed with the realization that Kanda was actively worried. Sitting there, covered in earth and grass and staring at him with clear blue eyes - did he look that bad?

"I'm going to see my uncle," Allen said suddenly. He wished he could crawl into the earth and die. It sounded so pathetic and sad, desperate.

Kanda just waited, the breeze lifting his hair.

"I think he feels bad," Allen said, looking at his shoe. He rubbed his thumb on it, staining his glove. "You know-" _for abandoning me_ "-so. Tomorrow. I'll see him." Inexplicably, he felt like crying. He rested his forehead on his knee, closing his eyes.

"Are you scared?" Kanda asked.

"No," Allen said and realized it was a lie. "Yes."

"But you're still going?"

Heart thrumming, chest tight, fingers clutching at his pants - "Yes."

"Then let it go."

Allen looked up sharply. "Let it go? Let it _go?_ How can I let it go? Do you know what he did? What he said?"

"Yeah, I fucking know!" Kanda snapped, standing and stomping through the dead flowers, feet sinking into the soft soil. "I was there! I'm here now - watching you kill yourself over a dead man who isn't there to say 'good job Allen'." Kanda settled backwards, lifting a hand in the air as if holding a cigarette, voice affected. "'I'm proud of you, Allen'!"

Allen teared up, angry. He jumped off the wall and stumbled on the shifting dirt, glaring at Kanda. "Shut up, _shut up!_ You don't know anything!" He stepped forward, inches from Kanda. "It's so easy for you to say whatever the fuck you want, but how can I go back there? How can I-"

He coughed, backing away to rest on the wall again, bending over and covering his mouth with both hands as what felt like a lung crawled up his throat. Kanda immediately sat beside him, a heavy hand on his back, a low voice in his ear, murmuring.

"It's those fucking cigarettes," Kanda spat once the coughs had subsided some, digging through Allen's bag to find his pack. Crushing it in his hand, Allen couldn't stop him from throwing it away in the nearest trash can, coming back with fire in his eyes. "Can't afford a fucking meal but you sure can pay to suck that poisonous shit into you."

"Shut up," Allen said weakly into his hands, eyes watering.

Kanda didn't hesitate to hand over his water bottle and Allen took a swig, coughing afterwards to finally clear his throat.

Then he clasped the bottle loosely in his hands, staring at it blankly, listening to the wind and birds, feeling Kanda beside him.

"I should quit, huh?"

Kanda snorted, took the bottle back, and started working again.

_-.-_

Allen couldn't head back to his empty apartment after that. He walked aimlessly down city streets, and didn't notice the barking until he'd nearly tripped over the dog.

"Oh!" He said, stumbling backwards. The kid glared at him and tugged on the dog's leash, pulling the tiny pet closer to herself. "I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay?"

Disinclined to talk to him, she turned towards the store beside them. Her mother walked out soon enough, taking her by the shoulder and walking away with a brief glance towards him. Mildly offended but not caring too much, he glanced at the store and paused.

It was a pet store.

Thoughtlessly, he walked in.

There were all sorts of pets - birds, cats, dogs, hamsters, snakes. So many it overwhelmed him.

Then he turned around and met big brown eyes.

"Oh no."

_-.-_

The moment he stepped foot in his apartment, everything was different. The sun warmer, brighter, the air cooler and lighter.

And in his arms was the biggest difference of all.

He brought Timcanpy up to his eyes, laughter turning to giggles when he licked his nose. It was insane. It was ridiculous. He was absolutely out of his mind because there's no way he just got a dog.

He's never had a dog. Never had a home permanent enough for it.

"Timcanpy," he crooned, holding the dog close. "Timcanpy, Timcanpy. Timcanpy, my pet. My dog."

Timcanpy whined softly, teeny and high, and Allen laughed brightly again.

 _He's small now,_ the worker had said. The shop had been the kind that took in strays and put them up for adoption, but eventually euthanized them. Hearing that, Allen's heart kind of broke.

"Me and you," he said, closing his eyes, and Timcanpy burrowed into his face. "Kind of the same, right?"

Golden, fluffy, _sure to grow huge,_ the worker had said. _Be sure to go to a vet soon._

He didn't want to put Tim down. It had been a struggle carrying a dog carrier along with all the supplies he had needed. That four hundred was gone, but Allen was happier with where it had went then if it had gone anywhere else.

Even if this thing with Neah didn't work out, Allen would still have Timcanpy.

"The apartment was just too big for me," Allen said in a whisper. Tim huffed wetly, tongue lolling. Allen laughed again, and he marveled at how buoyant he felt. He settled Tim's things in and around his apartment and couldn't stop laughing. He had always favored monochrome colors, but when buying for an energetic bouncing puppy he couldn't help but gravitate towards lighter colors.

A pale yellow dog bed, an obnoxiously red bowl set, a leash, toys, collar, all sorts. It had taken more than his four hundred and dipped into the rent cash he'd had, but God did Allen not regret a single thing.

"Is it possible to love an animal this much?" Allen asked Tim. The dog crooned. His ears were doing this funny thing where one was cocked and the other down, and it gave him the funniest expression.

Noon, in his black and gray apartment, spots of vibrant yellow and red and a barking dog - different.

He pressed his face into Tim's soft fur, simply breathing. Different.

_-.-_

A text message.

 _Hey, I got a dog. Do you want to come see him?_

First it had Lavi's name. Then he added Lenalee's, and finally tacked on Kanda's.

They responded enthusiastically, for the most part. All he got from Kanda was a _Read at 2:43 pm_ but Lavi and Lenalee sent tons of excited messages. It almost made Allen nervous.

In fact, it wasn't until he opened his door to Kanda that he realized none of them had been here before. No one had.

Kanda took a look around, dropped the huge drinks he'd brought on his kitchen counter, and said disdainfully, "Where's the dog?"

Lavi and Lenalee came together bearing too many bags of food. They crowded his kitchen, _ooo_ -ing at the appliances and color choices.

"You need more color, man," Lavi said, glancing at the spot a TV should be.

"Plants! Kanda has so many plants - hey, give him some, why don't you?" Lenalee said, jostling Kanda's arm, who was full of excited puppy.

"No! What if he kills them? Oh, goddammit, now he's crying! Why the fuck are you crying?"

"Hush Kanda! They're happy tears!"

"Aw, Allen, if you missed us that much you should've invited us to your awesome place more!"

It took a moment before Allen could muster a watery, "Shut up."

_-.-_

Four am.

They all fell asleep. Lenalee got his bed and Kanda unceremoniously kicked both Allen and Lavi off the couch. Allen fell asleep resting against it and Lavi had sprawled across his floor.

Allen woke up to a dog whining softly on his chest, tiny paws kicking.

"Are you dreaming?" He asked Tim softly. Tim kicked harder and Allen laughed.

Cupping the tiny dog more firmly against his chest, Allen thought longingly of his cigarettes. This was normally when he got off work and settled into his cold apartment, angry and exhausted and drowning in his own pity party. But, he couldn't - not with them all here and a dog on his chest.

So even though he ached and burned for one he remained still, thinking stupid things like how happy he was to just be in this moment.

It was Sunday.

_-.-_

Allen woke up groggily around ten to sunlight on his face and warm puppy tongue and breaths on his cheeks.

"Oh!" Lenalee said, rounding the corner from his kitchen. "You're up! Good, we just finished the pancakes!"

"Pancakes?" Allen asked, bewildered. There was no way he had any kind of ingredients for pancakes.

Lenalee laughed, probably at his expression. "I sent Lavi to get them. Kanda took Timcanpy out, by the way. Come on, come eat - before they get cold!"

The dining table he never used was covered in plates. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruits of all kids - so much he couldn't take it all in.

Lenalee, Lavi, and Kanda all sat around his table, Timcanpy in Lavi's lap. Allen took a seat, basking in the moment.

Warm, bright, tender. Soft.

"Thank you," he whispered.

_-.-_

They left soon after and Allen stood in his bathroom, staring at his reflection.

He didn't have such severe bags under his eyes anymore, his skin looked softer - less pale. Hair not so lanky. Eyes brighter.

"What changed?" He wondered aloud. A lot had.

"Can it stay?" He asked, thinking of his cigarettes, of his jobs, of aching back and feet and heart.

"Can I make it stay?"

Timcanpy whined quietly at his feet.

_-.-_

Kanda agreed to take care of Timcanpy while Allen was gone.

The Campbell house was far out from the city, enough so that several of them had apartments in the city itself for convenience. But, every Sunday, they returned home for lunch and family time.

Allen met Tyki at a donut shop. It was kind of a relief. Tyki was by far the most amiable and tolerable of his family.

Early mornings were never Tyki's thing. Hell, _afternoons_ weren't Tyki's thing. He waved a hand sleepily in Allen's direction, sitting on yellow bars in front of the shop, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, cigarette smoke curling in the air. Beside him was a box of donuts Allen didn't hesitate to open.

"Little shit," Tyki said fondly, and Allen grinned at him around a sprinkle covered donut. "They were for you anyways," Tyki amended, reaching to the ground where a cup of coffee sat. "Here."

Allen took a hesitant sip and scowled when he found it to his taste. "Stalker."

Tyki laughed.

_-.-_

Despite his penchant for dressing in rags and hanging around in questionable places, Tyki had a nice car.

"Sometimes," Tyki began, driving as Allen watched the road pass by blankly, "it's too much. The clothes, the car, the _lunches_ and, and - who are we trying to impress?"

"It's just the way they are," Allen said, thinking of Mana, who always wore pressed slacks and wrinkle-free shirts at first, though at the end of the day he didn't care if they became stained and rumpled.

"It's not the way _I_ am," Tyki muttered petulantly, but he didn't miss Allen's pointed glance at the golden watch on his wrist. "Shut up." Allen snickered.

It was a nice day for a picnic. Still a bit cold, but spring was coming. Tyki's car was tinted dark enough to be illegal, but it left the sun warm on Allen's arms and legs. He closed his eyes and focused on the soft thrum of the engine, the rumble of the car.

"Don't be nervous," Tyki said. "Don't - it'll be okay."

 _I hope so._

_-.-_

The car ride with Tyki had been the trial. Now, it was the real thing.

Tyki placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and waited for Allen to take the first step.

With a deep shaking breath, Allen did. He took ten before Road came running from the huge house, down down down the steps on platforms so huge it gave her an extra four inches on her height.

"Al~len!" She shouted, eyes bright and wide, glassy. She jumped from the last step and he stumbled back as he caught her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, tight, gangly and warm. "It's been so long," she said into his hair, and it reminded him briefly of Lenalee.

Warm, accepting. "You can always visit me," Allen said without thinking.

Road reared back sharply, overbalancing Allen so that he had to place a foot on the step to keep his hold on her. "Visit you?" She asked incredulously. Just as quickly she flopped forward again, almost choking him with her grip as she started talking a mile a minute into his neck.

"Road, Road, please," he begged. Tyki was laughing somewhere behind him and he shuffled awkwardly to glare him, carrying her as he was. _"Tyki."_

"Road, let the boy breathe," Tyki finally said, grinning, eyes curving.

"But I missed him!" Road said petulantly, kicking her feet behind her. Allen groaned and finally put her down. She kept a hold on his jacket though, and Allen realized that maybe he hadn't been the only lonely one.

That's what it was, wasn't it? Four am in his dark apartment, cold breath, aching. Loneliness. He had been lonely. So when Road grabbed his hand he let her. Not to be left out, Tyki stepped up to his other side, and Allen realized that they, if not the rest of his family, were there for him.

"What if he gets mad?" Allen blurted suddenly, stopping before the front door. "What if he says-" _that it's my fault again. That Mana died._ Allen didn't think he could bear to hear it again.

"He won't," Road assured, voice edging on hard. She squeezed his hand, nails digging in just a bit. "I promise."

Taking a deep breath, Allen opened the door.

The foyer was clear of anyone, large and open. Bright colors, in whites and golds with marble flooring. It took him back to being ten years old, one eye wide and the other taped shut with gauze, hands always shaking then. Cross at his back, a large hand on his shoulder, eyes blood-shot with drinking and tears he wouldn't show. They had both lost someone dear.

It had been empty then too, and they hadn't realized it was because of Neah. The rest of the Noah had fled to other homes and places as Neah cried and mourned Mana's death.

 _He was my brother and you took him from me._

Fear tasted sharp, acidic - it sluggishly covered him from the inside out and he stood still in the foyer, staring with burning eyes at the bright floor.

And then, softly, quietly, never forgotten but buried under layers of grief and tears - _Don't stop. Keep walking._

"I will, I will," he murmured, looking up.

Deeper into the house, Allen could hear muted chatter. He didn't actually remember much of the place. He'd stayed for less than a week before being whisked away, and much of that week had been spent blank and staring.

Past the foyer, down a hall, several doors down, into a kitchen and then beyond - a sun-room. That's where Mana's family was.

He didn't personally know all of them, having met them only briefly before Mana died and definitely not afterwards. The sun-room was open and spacious, filled with plants and sofas and chairs. There was a blanket spread of sandwiches and drinks, among other things.

Allen instantly locked eyes with Neah and the room fell deathly quiet. His heart hammered in his throat, eyes wide and breath quick.

Looking at Neah was so hard. He was the spitting image of Mana, golden eyed with dark messy hair, lightly tanned skin and large shoulders.

Then, loudly, _"Finally_ he's here."

Allen jerked to face the twins. He only vaguely remembered them as loud and kind of scary looking, and they looked just the same despite the years.

Hesitatingly briefly, he tried, "Jas...devi?"

"Will you look at that!" The brunet crooned, leaning into his twin and jostling his shoulder harshly. "He remembered our name! Swear to God it's in his blood - being that polite and shit."

"But ain't he adopted?" The other twin asked, frowning.

"Aren't we all?" He said back, laughing obscenely.

"Shut up you two," Tyki snapped, but they had broken the tension. Without preamble Road escorted him to the seat opposite Neah and sat beside him, pulling him down roughly. Tyki took Allen's other side, and Jasdevi broke the silence again by scrambling for the food.

 _They were waiting for me,_ Allen thought, letting Road pile his plate ten sandwiches high. She spooned him soups and crackers and fruits and managed to serve him every plate there was. He managed to snag the bread from her hands before she stuffed it into his face, chewing on food he couldn't taste.

It wasn't quiet, really. Jasdevi were a crowd all on their own, and Road could be just as loud. Tyki responded to comments well enough with sarcastic remarks, and Allen had just resigned himself to being a wallflower for once when Neah spoke up, easily overriding the chatter.

"You... you've been alright?"

Glancing up, Allen looked at Neah and saw for the first time what the years had done to him. A bit older, a bit more tired.

"I got a dog," Allen blurted, biting his tongue immediately afterwards. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why the_ hell _is that the first you said?_

Neah looked just as startled as Allen felt. "...Really?"

Accepting his idiocy as terminal, Allen nodded. "Yeah. His name is Timcanpy. I just got him yesterday."

Neah was quiet for a long moment, and then, softly, "You should bring him with you next time."

Jasdevi were loud and excited, demanding why Allen hadn't already brought him, and Road was bragging that she'd go see him first, and Tyki was muttering about taking a smoke break, and Allen let himself breathe.

Hope - gentle and quiet, expanding within him.

"Okay."

_-.-_

His apartment was startling quiet.

He set Timcanpy down gently, nails clicking on the floor. Kanda hadn't said much when Allen had retrieved him, aside from details about when he ate and such. He had taken a long hard look at Allen and, right before he left, said, _It wasn't so hard, was it?_

No, Allen thought, collapsing on his couch. It hadn't been.

Tim whined at his feet and so he lifted him up and settled him on his chest. It was just approaching twilight, sun dipping into the horizon and city stars peeking through his window.

"Timcanpy," Allen said, looking down and feeling grounded with the weight on his chest. "When you get older let's move out into a home with a big yard. How's that sound?"

A warm tongue on his nose, excited puppy crooning and eager stamping. Allen laughed.

"Sounds great."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sometimes it's hard to accept change, to keep moving forward - but it's okay. Take your time. It's the small moments that count.

The beginning of this made me so tired - I felt it so strongly. I wanted to reach the end in a way to prove to myself that I could. I'm glad I finally did.

Not everything is fixed and not everything is okay, but things are better, things are looking up.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it ^^


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